Ebb Tide: My Boat is my Life

by Jase Kovacs

  Okay. Don't bother opening the inspection hatch. Not my main effort right now.

  I'm up and away. Pick up speed, moving aftward quickly. Misdirection is the key. I'm just checking the cranes, just heading to the last one, on the port side, the western side. The air cools as I approach, the deck not so warm through the soles of my tennis shoes and I pass into the shadow of the superstructure, the bridge looming overhead, so close now to him. Still bright here, I don't think they could come out but the proximity brings fear bubbling up and I let it rise to the surface of my mind, filling my conscious thought, so that he knows, I'm afraid, I'm heading to the fourth crane and I'm scared, oh Jesus please let me make it to this crane, it's all I need, I just need to check this crane—

  Just like that, accidentally on purpose like, my course takes me past the stacked radar and radio components at the base of the bridge stairwell and I'm passing the entry to the lower decks, down the corridor that Blong took me yesterday, which lead to his trap, the sealed door to Hold Four and I'm still thinking about being scared of what I'll find in crane four when I lunge to the right–

  And then I'm sprinting, not slow, not smooth, running flat out down the stairwell, the metal stairs slipping under my flying feet, the rifle up, the Surefire on, I bolt down the corridor. Not even checking the storerooms I pass, a reckless charge but I know what my objective is, I only have a few seconds before he reacts, I know, I need to get there–

  To the door at the end of the corridor. Incredibly, it's open, the corridor ending in a yawning void, the door swinging loose. Can't remember if Blong sealed it yesterday, no wait, didn't he open it when I was getting away? Yesterday a jumble of memories.

  Whatever. The metal pole which I used to force the wheel still jammed in the wheel, spun over the wrong way and I can see it prevents the door from closing. I run down the corridor, the door is coming up and I hear a dozen shrieks rising from the hold and I know he has caught on.

  His children attack.

  In the Surefire's light I see the first coming, rising out of the dark hold, coming out at me like a bat, leaping, its arms raised up in a wide V, ranks of teeth and its red eyes filling my vision. It flies through the hatch and hits the ground running, coming straight at me but this is what I expected so it gets two bullets to the face and it crashes down, tumbling on the corridor and behind it comes another one and I go forward, shooting, two shots for every metre. Making myself advance, fire and movement, two shots go forward two shots go forward, they are streaming from the hold, but coming straight at me. Leaping. Easy shots, no deflection, no need to lead a target coming straight on. It's pitifully easy, I'm taking them in the air now and they crash into the side of the door and fall down or land half in the hatch and tumble away. These creatures, how can they be so terrifying and pitiful at the same time? Predictable, that's their problem, once you learn their games they're predictable.

  CRACK CRACK and weapon fires weapon stops, last round expended. Empty magazine. Go to reload but I'm there. I'm at the door.

  I lunge for the wheel. Grab it and pull the door. I'm rushing now, only got a second before the next one leaps and I pull on the door, it comes so easily, too easily, too quickly, I fall back and the pole strikes the edge of the doorway, it's stuck out to the side, too big to fit though the doorway. I seize and rotate the wheel so I can fit the pole past the edge. An arm reaches blindly around the narrowing gap, swiping at me, the mary clinging to the inside of the door chittering madly as it pulls itself around and looks through the narrow gap, screaming at me, its fetid rotten breath rolling over my face, the smell of death gagging me. I jerk my head back to avoid the sweep of its claws, throwing myself away and pulling the door shut at the same time. The metal hatch crashes down on the creature's arm, crushing it, pinning it. It doesn't cut it though and the claws reach for my living skin. I open the door ajar and slam it back hard, a sudden sharp shock better than a steady pull and metal clangs on metal and the arm falls to the floor. Twitching and grasping still.

  I spin the wheel, not expecting it to lock, Blong would have taken care of that, but the metal bar rotates around to the inside of the bulkhead, jamming the door closed. I push on the door. It opens maybe an inch before the metal bar clunks against the bulkhead. Stopping it. The creature on the other side hanging on, despite losing an arm, bashing its head on the door as if it could beat its way through solid steel.

  The pole hard against the wall. As locked as its going to get. Need to secure it though, otherwise something could come down here and spin it open. I go back into the storerooms that line the corridor and grab chairs and a table and boxes and stack and pile and jam them up against the door, running back and forth, building a barricade, sobbing for breath and then just sobbing as I pile pressure on the pole, keeping it tight, locking it in. When that's done I fill the stairwell down, throwing crates and more chairs and filing cabinets and anything I can to slow them down, restrict their movement, limit their options.

  I feel a pull, a draining of my energy, my vitality going. My morale ebbing, the flow of adrenaline fading after the mad rush, the empty blue depths yawning, drawing me down. I collapse against my makeshift barricade and just breathe deep shuddering breaths for a while.

  I scream, "How do you like that, you son of a bitch?!"

  No response.

  Katie, on the other hand, has plenty to say. What the hell was that mad rush? You passed four open doorways to get to this bulkhead. Anyone of these rooms could have been full of marys.

  He's listening in. Couldn't think about it.

  Bullshit, that was just reckless. She looks at me, half angry, half sad, her head cocked as she thinks deeply, feels what I am feeling, knows me as only she could. Jesus, do you really not care about surviving?

  I want to get that kid out.

  Yeah, I get that. But that's not the only thing here, is it? What are you afraid of?

  Besides the monsters and the insane maniac that's trying to dominate my mind?

  That's not it and you know it. You want to save the kid but— She sighs as she works it out, as I work it out, my motivations suddenly clear to me. You want to save him but—

  We don't have time for this—

  You don't want to escape.

  That's crazy.

  What, are you afraid that if you save the kid, you'll begin to care again? Is that why you hate going back to Madau? Why you're always going off on these stupid solo missions? Because you don't want to be close enough to anyone for them to–

  Spit flies from my lips as I yell, shrieking like one of them. Everyone's dead, Katie. Everyone. Me, Madau, the kid. We just haven't stopped moving yet. This plague, these monsters. Our time is passed. What's the point of saving this kid, anyway? Rescue him today so something else can get him some other time.

  Why are you doing it then?

  I don't know, I don't know.

  Having a breakdown in the middle of a firefight is hardly the best plan but I can't help it, I'm crumbling, I'm so tired, so weak, goddamn this all, goddamn this world for taking my family from me.

  I don't know why I'm doing this, I just have to, I can't leave the kid and I don't know why.

  Katie comes to me. Holds me. I am curled at the foot of the barricade, fetal, my rifle down, Christ why am I falling apart now, imagine what Dad, Mum would say.

  Okay.

  After a few minutes of this, the feeling goes. The tide ebbs.

  Okay.

  Katie holds me.

  Okay.

  Empty and cold.

  Noises. Creatures banging on the door. Distant and unimportant.

  You came back for the kid, says Katie. You're troubleshooting the shit out of this. You are wounded and exhausted and fighting against an evil that is beyond our imagining. And you're doing it alone. I know what Dad would say, what Mum would say.

  Shut up. I can't, I don't—

  It always looks so easy in the movies, in the books, the good guy goes in, never a moment of doubt, resolute.
Never faltering. But I have been alone for years, I have been struggling for so long and I'm tired, so very tired. Never staying on Madau for long. You stay with people then you begin to care about them and that makes you weak, that makes you vulnerable, when they're gone, when they're torn from you, great bloody holes left behind in your soul, better to be alone, better to be a solo sailor, never touching land, never touching anything can hurt you.

  Okay, shut up, says Katie. Shut up now. You've had your moment. You've done amazing things in the last twenty four hours and you're entitled to a moment of doubt. And you've had it. Now it's over. You know what Mum and Dad would say?

  I can't, they wouldn't—

  Okay, lets come back to them. You know what Jayden would say? You're a goddamned badass. That's what your brother would say. You're a deadset legend.

  Jesus, Katie, you–

  You shouldn't have to be in this position. No one should. But you are and you're fighting. Mum and Dad would be proud of you. You're a hero, Matty. That's what they would say to you, right now at this time. But you know what else Dad would say?

  What? My voice, so small. The creatures hammering on the door, they must be leaping and stacking on there, handing from their fingers, clawing but unable to find purchase. My mind starting to work again, consider options, consider angles. Thinking tactically.

  Dad would say: finish the job.

  He would say: Reorg. Reload the rifle, refill the empty magazine and finish the job.

  I stand. Wipe my face down, my fingers wet, long streaks left on my dirty cheeks. The creatures thumping on the closed door, each futile blow a hammer strike that rebuilds my strength, reinforces my determination because their frenzy means one thing to me. It means they're trapped.

  I nod and a smile ghosts my lips.

  Okay. Let's get back to work.

  Katie smiles back. Attagirl.

  Chapter 27

  I come up the stairs, into the light, with my rifle to my shoulder. My weakness gone, left where it should be, left in the dark down there. Out in the light, where I am strong, facing aft, I swing left, starboard CLEAR then right CLEAR and there is a flash of movement, a blur racing out into the light. A dark shape sprinting into sunlight. Blong! He's running, coming out of the superstructure, into the morning sun, straight across...

  No. Not Blong.

  One of them, covered in dark bed sheets. Bundled up, it races out of the superstructure, its bare feet smoking on the deck. I fire at it as it comes. But it's not coming at me, it's going to the last crane, the portside crane that is closest to the bridge.

  I shoot four times, maybe one or two bullets go home. It's running as fast as it can, I lead it, aiming ahead of it but then it's gone, disappearing behind the crane.

  I hold my ground. I'm out in the light. If it wants me, it will have to come straight at me, across the open deck. I back up, swinging left to clear the port side of the bridge again. Mindful of their simple tricks, the old bait and switch, this guy distracting me while others come at my flanks. I move back, opening the angle, so I can swivel easily, covering the crane, where I know one hides, and then pivoting to the port walkway, where I expect them to come.

  But nothing does. The portside remains clear and I swing back to the crane, expecting the cornered mary to charge at me but nothing moves. Nothing but the seabirds that have risen to the air in a mad circling panic, cawing desperately as they sense the unnatural creature hiding behind the crane.

  Katie, any ideas what it's up to?

  This is weird.

  You're telling me.

  Then something flies out, a square and I almost shoot it, like a clay pigeon, the square rises into the air and I'm looking at it thinking what the hell is when it hits me. It's the inspection panel from the base of the fourth crane. A hex key a little beyond the mary's ability to handle, it has just punched its claws through the thin metal of the hatch and ripped the whole hatch off.

  Oh shit.

  Katie yelps, the generator!

  But I'm already moving, crossing over the walkway between the deckhatches, moving to the portside so I can get it before it does something to the generator. Maybe rip hoses, maybe crunch the fuel injectors, sabotage to slow me down, to give me something else to fix.

  Then it springs into view. It has discarded its cloak. A thin old woman under there, skin shrivelled, pale long legs and arms, a crown of white thin hair. I must have hit it already because its covered in red liquid. No, wait, not red, pink liquid, thin, viscous goo that - they don't bleed, that can't be blood. What am I seeing?

  Fuck it, whatever, I shoot it. It runs out, naked and my shots take it high, above its sternum, chunks flying from its back as it goes down. But the angle is all wrong. It wasn't running at me, it was running around the side of the crane, out into the open space.

  Into the sunlight.

  As it goes down, it falls out of the crane's shadow, its momentum holding it on its course. It thuds to the deck and its glistening skin, already steaming, flickers and then ignites.

  It goes up. It doesn't catch fire, it explodes. Like a small fireball, more intense than any mary I've ever seen before, its skin rippling and disappearing. Black smoke rises, scorching the yellow arms of the crane.

  The pink liquid, the viscous goo. It wasn't blood.

  Oh shit again.

  It was hydraulic fluid.

  Above the generator are the pumps. Near the engine, so there isn't much voltage drop between the generator and the electric motors. A bulkhead separates them for safety, but this thing ripped the hatch off easily, so I doubt a safety bulkhead would trouble it. And the pumps are right next to the hydraulic reservoir - the tank holding the light oil that fills the pistons.

  I reach the port side just as another creature breaks from the superstructure. In between us, a spreading pool of oil gushes from the ruptured hydraulic lines, spilling out onto the deck, the reservoir pouring empty.

  The mary's head is down and its legs pump as it hurls itself out of the dark room and into the morning sun. It is completely naked, a man once. No attempt to hide from the light, no attempt to avoid the fatal sun. It runs straight at me, straight down the port walkway and I shoot at it, the bullets breaking bones but Katie is shouting RUN RUN RUN because it's not coming at me, it doesn't want me at all.

  Its skin hisses and ripples with fire. Its hair gone, its naked flesh blackening and curling, its cheeks dissolving as the sun liquefies its flesh, ignites fat and turns it into a flaming torch. With its last burst of energy it leaps. It disappears into the base of the crane, a missile, a shooting star, a meteor, diving into a cave of oil, as I turn and leap for cover.

  A rolling wave of heat comes over and a dull crump ripples through the deck. Not quite an explosion, instead a sudden ignition filling the air with a reverberating WHOMP. I shove my breath out as a heat spike comes over me and then is gone.

  I raise my head slowly. My skin tingles with a light flashburn. Like I've been tanning myself on the beach all day. Already, the crane is a pyre, fire licking around the edges of the hatch. The air smells of burning plastic and oil. The flames boil out of the gantry, churning, the oil going up, black smoke spilling and the thickening as the intense heat of the mary's suicide run ignites oil, ignites hydralic fluid, ignites rubber hoses, electrical cables, insulation, everything that is not metal bursting into a sudden conflagration.

  Katie shakes her head in disbelief. Whoa.

  You said it, sister. He's still got some tricks up his sleeve.

  Why hasn't he tried–

  I look to crane three. The deck around it is intact; no damage. It's too exposed. That creature barely made it to number four. They can't reach number three. I could shoot them down before they make it.

  Well. Guess we know where our best effort is, says Katie.

  I nod. In the spirit of making lemonade out of lemons and all that, I say yeah. All he's done is saved us the hour I would have spent troubleshooting crane four. Changes nothing.


  Katie winks. Good attitude.

  The air reeks of burning plastic and oils. But the fire can't spread - the modular cranes sealed against the deck, nowhere for it to go. All it can do is fill the air with black smoke, that streams away downwind, until it burns out.

  Then he comes. Not reaching into my mind. Not seeing to dominate me. His voice. Not his mind voice. His real one. A monstrous shrieking that fills the air. The Captain yells, "MATAI!" His voice breaking, guttural, tearing itself from half rotten vocal cords.

  I look up, to the top of the superstructure, and I see Blong dangling. His feet running in empty space. Hanging from the front of the bridge. White arms reaching out from inside, locked around his neck, holding the terrified boy over empty space. White arms that are smoking and steaming and blistering. The only thing holding Blong, keeping him from falling down to his death, are the Captain's arms and they're about to burst into flames.

  The rotten voice shrieks, "I don't know how long I can hold him Matai!"

  I run.

  Katie: NO, THAT'S WHAT HE WANTS.

  Doesn't matter. I sprint, my head down, across the hatches, hurdling the railing, leaping like an athlete. Something deep inside me flowering, giving my feet wings. The metal deck hard against my soles, my tennis shoes slapping down as I sprint across the hot deck. A sudden patch where the metal gives, is weakened with corrosion, denting as my foot comes down and I spring up away, leaping over the dimpled bubbled paint that tells of the corruption beneath. Sliding off the deck, landing on the port side walkway.

  Katie: No, that's the shadowed side, they can come at you.

  Good. If I went up the starboard sunlit side, he could escape down the shadowed portside.

  Not that there is much shadow left. The sun is high. Halfway through the day.

  No more. No more running. No more hunting. This ends now.

  Get him while he's still bottled up.

  I reach the base of the superstructure and a mary leaps at me. I swerve, let its momentum take it past me. I twist, put a bullet in the back of the head. Turning up to the doorway, firing before I even identify the target because of course another one is there, ready to leap on me. Blast it in the face and then I'm pounding up the outside stairwell.